


Dark

by Fierygirl0 (orphan_account)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Bets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 08:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Fierygirl0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I see the way he watches me, but I'm not sure he's aware that I watch him back. Sequel to 'Light'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark

He's always watching me.

I'm not quite sure when I realized this. Definitely not for at least a year after Aizen had agreed to the truce, it took me longer than it should have. I look for him now though, and I never fail to find him in the background of the room, in the shadows, watching. I know that sounds creepy as hell, but it doesn't come off that way. It feels more like he doesn't want to intrude, like he doesn't feel he belongs in the light with the rest of us. It almost is enough to make me grin. If Zaraki and Grimmjow can find a place in my circle then I'm sure he'd fit in just fine if he dared to try.

I see the way he watches me, but I'm not sure he's aware that I watch him back. I've learned the variances of the almost always present grin, the slight lift that means he's genuinely amused, the way his eyes just barely open when he's angry or upset. I know that he watches the way my group interacts with amusement, concealing laughter at their never ending attempts to catch my attention. I wonder if he views me like everyone else does, if he thinks I'm as oblivious to the competition over me as people suggest. I'm not, by the way.

Yes, I know that over half of the people I consider friends – and even some that I don't – are competing for me. And yes, I know about the pool Urahara and Yoruichi are running over who will win. They keep me updated on it and it's a constant source of amusement for me that people are actually betting over who I'll end up with. Grimmjow isn't a bad guess, neither is Aizen, and anyone who bet for a female may as well just say goodbye to their money now. But in the end Grimmjow is too violent for my tastes, much like Zaraki, and while I'm sure Aizen would be fantastic in bed I don't think I'd ever get past the shields of constantly-in-control that he has.

Instead, I find myself riveted to the one man people would probably never bet on. Ichimaru Gin, the traitor, the _fascinating_. Rukia calls him a snake, and Renji probably calls him much worse than that. I wonder. We've never even spoken, but I've seen the way he treats Kira and Matsumoto now that he's back. He's genuinely sorry that he left, he cares for them no matter what people say to the contrary.

He watches, and I watch back. The cycle continues.

The first time we speak is my doing. I'm alone, for once, standing at a window in one of the many corridors in Las Noches and just watching the moon and the movements of the sand as the wind disturbs it. I hear him round the corner, hear the pause in his steps and hear him turn to leave.

"Wait." I turn to look at him and he's standing at the corner, his head tilted back over his shoulder towards me. "We should talk."

The tiny quiver of his grin tells me that he doesn't fully enjoy this idea, but he spins and heads towards me anyway, white robes billowing around him. "Alrigh' Ichigo-chan, what ya wanna talk abou'?" His tone is light, as carefree as it always is and with that permanent mocking accent that sets so many people on the defensive. He leans against the wall next to me and every line of his body reflects back casual amusement and interest, he's a great actor.

"You're always watching me." I see the jerk of the shoulder not against the wall, the flash of blue before his eyelids shutter back into place, he didn't think I'd noticed him. "Why is that?"

He shrugs, pushing off the wall and crossing his arms in their long sleeves. "Wha' c'n I say? Ya're the sun a' our lil' universe, who wouldn' watch?"

I snort in amusement, letting my eyes flick out to the sands again. "Fair enough, but everyone else talks to me, you stay in the shadows." I lift my gaze back to him and narrow my eyes slightly. "Why?"

His face tilts downwards, away from me, and his voice is a little more forcefully cheerful than before. "I don' belong 'n the light, Ichigo-chan, burns awa' all ma defenses. 'M much be'er suited ta the dark. Besides, ya 'ave plenty a' others vyin' for yer attention."

I give a short laugh and his head lifts to look at me again. "Yeah, I know. Who'd you bet on?"

His grin falters for a second, eyes barely opening to peer at me with mingled shock and confusion. "What?"

"The pool Urahara and Yoruichi are running, did you place a bet?"

He stares at me for a moment longer before laughing, his left hand rising to shield his mouth. "Ya' know abou' tha'?" I nod and his grin quirks upwards. "Na' as oblivious a' we all thought, eh? Nah, a' kept my money ou' a' tha' one. Ya're too unpredictable." His eyes slide just barely open and my breath catches at the ice blue of his irises. "Shoul' a' be bettin' on someone 'n particular, Ichigo-chan?"

I shake my head, watching that sliver of blue. "No. I'm interested in someone but he isn't around very often so it isn't really going anywhere."

That sliver vanishes and his grin tightens around the edges in what I identify as pain. "E's a fool then, ya're the prize a' the century." I sigh and step forwards, close enough to make the grin quiver and his eyes slit again in wariness. I raise a hand to his chest, gently shoving at it and raising an eyebrow.

"Well maybe, if he _talked_ to me, I could get to know him. And he might just find out I'm not the oblivious, pure, light-loving person he thinks I am." His eyes are wide open, stunned and disbelieving, and his grin is completely absent. I step away, giving him back his room, and smirk. "He should think about it." He's still staring as I turn and leave the corridor, a bounce in my step that is there purely because if that doesn't get through to the thickheaded ex-captain, I don't know what will.

He might consider himself not 'good' enough for me, but then, I've never particularly liked the 'good', 'light' men.

Give me a man of the _dark_ any day.


End file.
